


Beneath the Surface

by TheDVirus



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bruises, Comfort, Feels, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Hot Tub, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Injury Recovery, M/M, Recovery, Scars, Swimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 03:40:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14035386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDVirus/pseuds/TheDVirus
Summary: Oswald's leg is troubling him during a bad cold snap in Gotham but he refuses to admit it. Ed decides to help by showing Oswald some of his own scars.Third Prompt for Nygmobblepot Week 2018: 'Hurt/Comfort'





	Beneath the Surface

Ed surfaced, the warmth of the water pleasantly mingling with the coolness of the air as he sighed happily. After the lengthy meeting in the draughty environs of City Hall, the heated pool was a welcome balm. It had been a pleasant discovery Ed had happened upon while exploring Oswald’s mansion and on such a chilly day, he was grateful he had taken the time to clean it and ensure it was in working order.

Ed swam to the edge of the tiled pool and placed his back against it, looking up at the steam rising towards the glass dome overhead. Trailing plants in various hanging baskets added dashes of colour as well as a pleasant, heady scent to the calming atmosphere.  
Ed squeezed his hands together, smiling at the jets of water the movement generated.

‘Enjoying yourself?’ a familiar voice asked.

Ed swivelled around and waved at Oswald in greeting. He noted Oswald’s hunched shoulders and how he leant heavily on his cane as he closed the door behind him. Oswald never usually used the cane in the mansion. His leg was obviously troubling him more than Ed had originally assumed.

Even by Gotham standards, the Winter was cold and Oswald, despite his nickname, felt it more than most. Ed had often told Oswald that a combination of hot and cold was the best way to treat a sore limb but Oswald preferred to apply as much ice to it as he could stand. That allowed him to ignore the pain (at least until it inevitably resurfaced) but the frigid weather had obviously made it too painful for him to resort to this usual tactic.  
So, throughout the meeting at City Hall that morning, Oswald had suffered in silence. Ed, the only one familiar with Oswald’s body language, had noticed how he had been squirming in his seat: wincing every time he slightly moved his knee. Oswald had smiled brittlely at small talk and his eyes had glanced at the clock on the wall a little too often to be casual. When the meeting had adjourned, Oswald had waited for everyone else to file out. Ed knew it was nothing to do with politeness. Oswald wanted to use the elevator to get back downstairs without anyone seeing him. Oswald usually eschewed it in favour of using the stairs in direct defiance of his disability but Ed assumed Oswald did not want to take the risk of someone seeing him stumble. Ed, wishing to spare Oswald’s dignity had said nothing, simply followed obediently, like a good Chief of Staff was expected to.

Appearances mattered to Oswald but now they were alone, surely he could relax a little? Indulge his pain for a change rather than shout it down?

‘Care to join me?’ Ed asked, tracing a finger through the water to make the shape of a question mark, ‘It might cheer you up’.

‘I’m fine for now’.

‘I thought penguins liked to swim?’ Ed teased.

A humourless smile traced across Oswald’s face as he carefully lowered himself onto a nearby wooden bench. Ed tactfully pretended not to notice the small gasp of pain Oswald gave between his gritted teeth.

‘The novelty wears off when you’ve had to swim across Gotham Bay with a broken leg’, Oswald remarked.

‘Well, it’s a good thing this isn’t Gotham Bay then’, Ed said, patting the water’s surface invitingly, ‘It’s heated for starters’.

‘I said ‘I’m fine for now’’.

Ed fought the urge to roll his eyes as he saw Oswald’s fingers clench around his knee joint. He would have to approach the subject carefully. Patiently wear down Oswald’s stubbornness. The injury was as much a mental wound as a physical one.

‘I just thought it would be good for your leg’, Ed offered off-handedly, ‘I can tell it’s been bothering you and-’

‘No it hasn’t’, Oswald interjected, hand withdrawing its grip on his kneecap pointedly.

‘Oswald’, Ed said, the faintest trace of a reprimand in his voice.

‘Fine’, Oswald grumbled, ‘It hasn’t been bothering me any more than usual. Happy?’

Ed swam to the steps built into the side of the pool and got out. It was hard to reason with Oswald when he was technically above him. Hopefully looking him in the eye would convince him to see sense. If Oswald didn’t treat his leg soon, his body would simply force him to and buckle under the strain. Oswald already looked pallid with dark shadows beneath his watery eyes. It seemed he hadn’t been sleeping well. 

‘Look, if you’re embarrassed about it-‘ Ed began but Oswald cut him off again.

‘Of course I’m embarrassed!’ Oswald snapped.

Ed kept calm, reassured that, despite Oswald’s angry tone, he was at least making some progress in drawing out some of the negativity that was festering in Oswald’s brain.

‘But, why?’ Ed asked, sitting beside Oswald, being careful not to drip any water on his clothes.

‘Why?!’ Oswald bristled, holding up his fingers as he listed, ‘Because it’s hideous, it’s painful, I haven’t slept in three days and there’s nothing I can do about it!’

‘But there is!’ Ed protested, ’The warm water can help. I can help-‘

‘No, you can’t!’

‘Why not?!’ Ed asked, reaching out to touch Oswald’s knee.

‘Because I don’t want you to see-’ Oswald cried as he leapt to his feet.

A harsh cry of pain and Oswald was suddenly on the floor, grasping his buckled knee, mouth agape in silent agony. Ed immediately rose, ready to help. 

‘Are you alright?!’

‘I’m fine! I said ‘I’m fine!’’ Oswald shouted, slamming a fist on the stone floor, ‘How many times do I need to say it?! Can you just stop fussing for five minutes and leave me alone?!’

Ed slowly sat back down on the bench as Oswald struggled into a sitting position, grunting with the strain of movement. Oswald growled as he realised his clothes were now damp from the floor and his hand was red and aching. But what was worse than the physical pain had been the hurt in Ed’s face. Oswald risked a side glance up at him as he leant his back against the bench and felt nauseous to see Ed’s clenched jaw as he stared straight ahead at the pool. Oswald was busy trying to figure out a way to apologise while simultaneously trying to keep his mind off the constant ache in his leg when Ed broke the silence.

‘I’m sorry Oswald’, Ed said quietly, ‘I didn’t mean to push you. I was just trying to help’.

Oswald sighed heavily. Losing his temper felt as if it had evaporated all of his energy. All the nagging irritations that had been building and building to fever pitch since the cold snap had started a few days earlier had vanished like smoke, leaving him feeling utterly drained but oddly calm.

‘I know’, Oswald said repentantly, ‘I’m sorry for yelling at you. It just…’

He trailed off, unsure how to encompass his experiences in a simple yet candid way. Ed helpfully provided the missing puzzle piece.

‘Hurts?’ Ed offered.

Oswald nodded, smiling defeatedly.  
They sat in silence for a few moments, staring at the water. Ed allowed Oswald time to raise himself back onto the bench before breaking the companionable quiet once more.

‘For the record, I don’t think scars are ‘hideous’’, he said, ‘I think you should try to be proud of them. They’re symbols of survival’.

‘You don’t have scars like I do’, Oswald said.

Ed turned to face Oswald and Oswald was taken aback by the determined look on his face. It was as if Ed had come to a big decision of some kind.

‘Can I show you something?’

Ed took Oswald’s curious expression as an affirmation and pulled his t-shirt off in one fluid motion, revealing his bare chest.

‘Oh my God’, Oswald gasped before he could stop himself, his earlier curiosity at Ed’s choice to wear a shirt in the pool suddenly answered with a disturbing visual aid.

‘Impressive collection isn’t it?’ Ed asked, smiling ruefully.

It was indeed a collection. Scars upon scars marked Ed’s flesh like the masterwork of a deranged artist. Pastel shades of all shapes and sizes: the still hot pink of long healed cigarette burns, the criss-cross marks of a studded strap’s tender attentions and even the white stripes of knife edges illuminated Ed’s flesh like lightning flashes.

‘These are old’, Oswald said, not knowing where to begin even asking about the source of such varied damage.

‘Very old’, Ed agreed.

‘Who did this to-Sorry!‘

‘It’s okay’, Ed said shivering slightly at the pressure of Oswald’s fingertips, ‘The skin’s just sensitive. They don’t hurt anymore’.

Ed looked at Oswald evenly as he continued talking.

‘But I would have given anything for an offer of help back when they did. I know how it feels to be alone with your pain’.

Oswald placed his palm on Ed’s heart, feeling his steady pulse beneath his marked flesh, his narrow chest rising and falling with each breath. The scars made Ed seem more ‘real’ somehow. Stronger. More enduring. Oswald noticed a particularly deep mark in the crook of Ed’s shoulder and felt his old bullet wound twinge almost as if in sympathy. Had that been how Ed had known about the various skin treatments he had recommended to Oswald when he had been recuperating in his apartment? Through trial and error on his own body?

‘You’ve made your point’, Oswald conceded then raised an eyebrow light heartedly, ‘I don’t suppose you have anything I can wear?’

Ed’s solemnity was swallowed by his customary warm smile.

‘As a matter of fact…’ Ed said, reaching beneath the bench. 

He took out a plastic bag and showed Oswald a pair of black swimming trunks inside it. Oswald laughed, shaking his head fondly. He should have known Ed had had this all planned out from the start. Oswald supposed he should feel annoyed at being manipulated but all he felt was a giddy kind of relief. As if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

‘In that case’, Oswald said, ‘Can you help me get into the water please?’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes’, Oswald affirmed, spreading his arms, ‘And could you also, maybe, help me undress?’

Ed helped remove Oswald’s jacket and automatically looked around for somewhere to hang it up but was confronted with the steamed up glass walls of the converted conservatory. Oswald chuckled and took the jacket back, folding it carefully into a neat pile on the bench. 

‘They’ll need cleaned anyway thanks to being on the floor’, he said, doffing his shirt and tie.

Ed glanced at Oswald’s shoulder and was gratified to see that the bullet wound he had treated all those months ago had faded to nothing more than a shiny purple afterthought. Oswald cleared his throat and Ed grinned apologetically for staring. He gave Oswald a dry towel for modesty and, as Oswald began to undo his belt, he turned away. Looking down at his own discarded t-shirt, Ed decided against replacing it as a gesture of solidarity with Oswald’s exposure.

‘Ed? Speaking of clothes needing cleaned, when you brought me back to your apartment, you undressed me, right?’

‘Yes’, Ed replied matter of factly.

‘So, technically my leg is nothing you haven’t seen before?’

Ed considered lying for the briefest of seconds but decided against it. It was only right to match Oswald’s decision to be open with identical honesty.

‘Not exactly. I didn’t remove your knee brace. Thought it was best to let you do that yourself when you were conscious. I was worried about tightening it too much’.

Ed heard fabric hit the floor, followed by a slightly heavier yet similar sound. Ed realised the second sound had to have been Oswald’s knee brace. 

‘You can turn around now’.

Ed purposefully didn’t look at Oswald’s knee first, choosing instead to ensure that the trunks he had picked out fit correctly. Once he was satisfied that they did, only then did he allow his eye to trail downwards. Oswald’s gaze was averted. It always was when the topic of his leg came up: Oswald’s subconscious shame at what he considered a weakness.

‘Can I touch it?’ Ed asked.

‘I suppose so’, Oswald said, shrugging with practiced indifference, ‘It’s not like I asked before touching yours’.

To Oswald’s credit, he didn’t flinch when Ed placed his fingers on the joint. Ed took advantage of the opportunity to track the extent of the damage to Oswald’s leg as a whole. His ankle was inflamed and reddened, no doubt due to the pressure of overcompensation and Oswald sat at an angle, the better for his other leg to bear the majority of his weight. Ed focused on the knee proper.  
It was a kaleidoscopic explosion of colour against Oswald’s pale skin. The vividness of the bruises suggested earlier, unseen falls that Oswald had not mentioned to Ed. Purple, green and yellow glistened and intermingled with each other like an oil spill while red pinpricks shone out of the mix like stars in a nebula. Ed methodically traced the outline of the kneecap and nodded knowingly as he detected several kinks where the bone had set badly but was distracted by Oswald’s contrite voice.

‘I’m sorry you had to show me your…’ Oswald shook his head as if trying to force suitable words into his mouth but then gave up, ‘I’m sorry Ed’.

‘Don’t be. I wanted to show you’, Ed said, getting back onto his feet, ‘And I’m glad you showed me this. It’s fascinating’.

‘It’s not the word I would use’, Oswald said, shivering as his exposed skin began to cool.

‘Oswald, I used to be in forensics. You’d be surprised how much beauty can found in flesh’, Ed said as he offered Oswald his hand, ‘Come on, lean on me’.

**

‘Is the pool too hot?’ Ed asked as he helped Oswald settle into the water. 

‘No, no’, Oswald insisted, cursing how easily he blushed, ‘It feels just right’.

Ed had practically scooped him up in his arms to carry him into the pool! He was stronger than he looked. Oswald liked looking at him. Even the scars had an odd kind of beauty to them, their various patterns and colours almost akin to medals on the chest of a conquering soldier.

‘That’s good’, Ed said, placing soft pressure on Oswald’s shoulder, ‘Lie back. Don’t worry. I won’t let you go under’.

Oswald felt his heart flutter at Ed’s warm, caring gaze and acquiesced to the instruction, shouting down his usual, instinctive paranoia at surrendering control. This was Ed for God’s sake! 

‘I trust you Ed’, Oswald said, ‘You know that don’t you?’

‘I’m glad’, Ed said, a smile in his words.

Oswald looked up at the dome as he rested his head on the side of the pool, Ed’s hand beneath his back helping him to float. He felt calm, almost weightless. It was snowing again outside, the heavy flakes settling on the dome like an additional protective layer or the roof of an igloo. A tropical paradise for just the two of them hidden within the storm of white. When was the last time he had felt so warm?

‘Give me your leg’, Ed said and felt a surge of success when Oswald offered the limb to him without hesitation.

It seems killing Oswald’s monster with kindness had worked like a charm. Ed began to massage Oswald’s knee gently, moving the leg back and forth through the water.

Hearing Oswald sigh shakily, Ed asked, ‘Does that hurt?’

‘Not anymore’, Oswald answered honestly as he felt his falling tears begin to cool on his burning cheeks.


End file.
